Jocasta dearly wished she hadn't drunk so much the previous night. The wine, which had been so fruity and delicious the night before, was a poor travelling companion as they set off on the East Road through the chill of a rainy morning. The Dwarves were in somewhat better spirits, being both more resilient to the effects of drinking and completely elated at the notion of marching off to adventure despite the rain. They were a strange people, by turns taciturn and exuberant with little apparent logic for the changes. Certainly they had seemed impressed that Beren had been able to secure the writs they needed so quickly, and despite their outward show of fatalism about the whole quest, Jocasta could tell they were excited.

Much of what had transpired the previous evening still troubled her. What had been Giroux's game? Why had the demon had her engineer Beren's encounter with her? Did it intend for events to transpire this way? and if so to what end? The line of enquiry curled back in on itself, accomplishing nothing other than to worsen her dull headache. Jocasta wore a traveling cloak and a wide brimmed sun hat that kept the worst of the rain off her. She whispered a simple spell that repelled the water, making her shimmer slightly in the gray morning light. As she worked the magic she felt a slight reverberation in the dragonfly ear rings that Beren had given her. She frowned slightly but she felt too miserable to investigate at the moment.

"Here eat this," Beren said, pulling his horse beside her and passing her a warm flat bread. Jocasta prodded at it unenthusiastically. It was heavy and dense.

"Dwarven trail bread," he explained, "flour, powdered mushroom and bacon fat with salt and herbs. Then its pressed dry and baked." If Beren had been a bread salesmen the pitch would have seen him starving before too long but Jocasta had to admit that it smelled good. She bit off a corner of it and found to be surprisingly tasty.

"Aye it's good for hangovers too," one of the dwarves snickered. Jocasta munched on the bread, feeling the improvement of having something on her stomach.

"How far is this Moreloke Estate?" she asked, having forgotten the minutiae of the discussion late last night.

"Three days if we push," Beren supplied. He paused and looked around. They were only a mile out of the city but the forest was already crowding the road. They had an unwholesome element to them, many of them crusted with moss and lichen above the snow line.